


Insatiable

by banana_thief



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga), Devilman Crybaby - Fandom
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-04 01:50:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13353987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banana_thief/pseuds/banana_thief
Summary: Devilman Crybaby universe. Around episode 5. Akira's desires are insatiable, can Ryo satisfy them? One-shot.





	Insatiable

**Insatiable**

 

Akira stared at the stack of money Ryo had thrown onto the bed. He didn’t understand its purpose or the gesture. Did Ryo honestly think that by throwing money at him it would fix all his problems? That it would quell this thirst deep inside him—this lust for violence and flesh?

_Thinking with emotions can’t yield rational answers._

Akira looked around the dark bedroom. It felt cold and clinical—even the twinkling cityscape outside the wide windows offered no comfort. There was no relief to be found in the Asuka residence. What had Akira expected? He felt tears rush to his eyes—felt their heat threaten him. The gore on his body stained the sheets. He stood and peeled off his shirt. Ryo. Had he seemed disappointed in Akira? Was there some lesson to be learned? Akira gripped the shirt in his hands—stared at it—willed answers from it. He slouched and sighed. He’d take a shower here and head home. There was no use in trying to understand Ryo.

He left the money behind.

 

 

The bathroom Akira had managed to find was enormous. It felt like he had stepped into some private spa. Everything was white and glistening, even the tiles beneath his feet were heated. Akira pulled off his pants and underwear, and walked over to the toilet to piss.

Ryo walked in on him. “You’re still here.” His blue eyes stared at the activity. His face unreadable.

Akira blushed—his stream stopped for a split second—he looked ahead and continued relieving himself. “Thought I’d shower. You don’t mind, right?”

“No. You can do as you like. Should I have Jenny order you some dinner? I know you need to refuel.”

The thought of succulent meat made Akira’s mouth water. He shook the last few drops out and flushed the toilet. “That would be great. Thank you, Ryo.” The two stared at each other. Ryo still managed to look radiant even in this white environment. “Wanna take a bath with me?” Akira offered as he walked over to the stool and showerhead.

“Like when we were children?”

Akira smiled. “Yeah.” He bent and turned on the shower faucet, found the hottest temperature possible and began rinsing the blood out of his hair. He felt Ryo’s eyes on him—heavy and engrossed. “Well?”

Ryo turned his back on Akira. “I’ll have Jenny order dinner. I hope you’re okay with steak and ponzu with grated daikon,” and with that he left. The mention of steak made Akira’s stomach grumble. His cock was half stiff. _From the thought of food?_ Ryo’s watchful eyes flashed in his mind. _Because of...Ryo?_ Akira straightened, he lowered his arm and let the showerhead blast water onto the tiled floor. He looked over at the deep soaking tub. He had forgotten to fill it up in the meantime.

 

 

Akira ate with ferocity. He couldn’t cut his meat fast enough. Ryo hardly touched his meal, he was more engrossed with his laptop, tap-tapping away on the keys.

“Are you going to finish yours?” Akira asked, already leaning over across the table to grab Ryo’s plate of food. Ryo shook his head and Akira helped himself. “What’re you doing?” he asked between mouthfuls of daikon and steamed potatoes.

Ryo closed his laptop with a gentle snap. “Nothing.” He leaned back into his hair and crossed his legs. Akira was glad Ryo’s leg was better—in fact he healed rather quickly. Ryo stared out of the massive window beside them.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Ryo closed his eyes and smiled. “You can stay the night here. There’s plenty of food in the fridge.”

Akira cleaned his plate; he sat back and sighed happily. “All right. Thank you for the food.” He stood and motioned to grab the plates.

“Jenny will get them. You should rest,” Ryo said. His face was so delicate, his mouth so tiny—what would it look like stretched over a thick cock— _his_ cock? Akira flushed and stood upright, he knew his cheeks were burning red. “Is something wrong?” Ryo asked. He trailed his fingers over his laptop and Akira immediately imagined them trailing down his stomach, through his pubic hair, gripping his cock.

“Nothing!” Akira excused himself and hurried over to the room with the money. He closed the door behind him and leaned his back against it—his erection straining the joggers Ryo had given him. There was something fiery and animalistic clawing away inside Akira—he had just eaten but he felt so ravenous, so bottomless. He had to rub this out.

He stripped and walked over to the bed. The money was gone, and the sheets were clean. They wouldn’t be for long. Akira lied down, spat in his palm, and stroked himself. He closed his eyes and focused on his cock, his saliva, and the heat of his hand. He thought of tits, wet pussies, soft feminine moans—and then he thought of Ryo bundled up in white, his soft hair and pout little mouth. Akira growled, he spat some more into his hand and massaged the tip of his cock—thumbing over the slit. He thought of Ryo—naked and wet—he thought of his pink little asshole... Akira moaned and writhed on the bed. His chest felt so incredibly hot, his hand wasn’t enough—he needed tightness, flesh—something to sink his teeth into, something to suck.

“Akira?”

Akira’s eyes snapped open and he sat upright. He quickly brought a pillow around to cover his cock. “R-Ryo—uh—I—”

“Do you need help?”

With his chest heaving, Akira stared at his friend. “Help? With—” he looked down at the pillow in his lap and looked up at Ryo and his tiny mouth. He moved the pillow aside and said nothing, hoping the action was enough of an answer. Ryo nodded and crawled onto the bed between Akira’s legs, he gently grabbed his sticky cock. “Can you,” Akira said, and Ryo looked up at him, “can you take off your clothes?”

“Why?”

“I just—just take off your clothes.”

Ryo’s eyes narrowed but he did as he was told. Shrugging out of his puffy coat and peeling down to his boxer briefs. Akira watched him, studied that ever elusive body always hidden under layers of white. He was slender and fair skinned. Akira ran his hands along Ryo’s arms—his skin was supple and almost translucent. Ryo repositioned himself and without any hesitation began sucking on Akira’s cock. His sucking was unhurried, agonizingly flawless in the way his tongue lapped at his underside. His lips felt perfect wrapped around him. It was all soft, warm, and wet—exactly what he needed.

Akira arched back and buried his palms into Ryo’s silky hair. He couldn’t hush his moans. Ryo was leisurely in his delivery—delicate—it was driving Akira wild, and before he could stop himself, he gripped Ryo’s head and skull-fucked him. Ryo gagged and wrestled out of Akira’s grasp. He fell back on the bed and brought a hand up to wipe the spit off his chin. But Akira wanted more of that, more of him, more power over him. He pinned Ryo down onto the bed and kissed him—surprised to feel Ryo’s tongue force its way into his mouth. He moaned into their kiss, melted into Ryo, allowed himself to be pulled down onto him.

Had Ryo wanted this too? For how long? His tongue was so needy, and his hands were all over Akira’s body.

Akira positioned himself so that his cock was over Ryo’s face. He couldn’t help himself. “Suck it,” he said, half mortified by his demand but too horny to fully care. Ryo looked up at him, but did as told. Akira groaned and eased his cock further into Ryo’s mouth—he wanted to see him gag again—see that cool demeanor crack, expose something, anything. But Ryo loosened his jaw, took all of Akira in, he relaxed his throat and carefully breathed as to not disrupt Akira’s thrusting. Akira felt Ryo’s hands on his ass, squeezing him, even urging him deeper. Close to coming, Akira pulled out and Ryo gasped for air. Akira noticed how swollen Ryo’s cock was under his boxer briefs, and he palmed it over the fabric. He felt its girth and heat, he stroked it and Ryo let out a rasped moan.

“I can return the favor,” Akira offered, although he had no idea how to suck a cock, he’d try his best. He didn’t wait for answer as he situated himself between Ryo’s quivering thighs. Akira trailed his tongue over the fabric of his boxers. He was intoxicated by Ryo’s smell, aroused by the concealed cock straining and swelling with blood.

“Akira.” It was barely a whisper. It was a plea. Ryo gazed down at him with a pained expression. His chest and neck were flushed, and his eyelids were heavy with need. Akira smirked and brought his mouth over Ryo’s covered erection, he lapped away at it—teasing Ryo. “Please.” There it was. Akira tugged Ryo’s underwear down just enough to free his aching cock. He took Ryo into his mouth and sucked him just as he had been sucked. He knew when his teeth would accidently graze his sensitive flesh, because Ryo would hiss and stiffen. He tried to make it as wet as possible because he liked it as wet as possible. His spit was everywhere. Akira kept his fingers wrapped around the underwear’s elastic band as he bobbed his head up and down.

Ryo’s moans were delicious—stifled—on the edge of cries. He was so good at holding back. Akira envied that a little. And then he tasted it, Ryo’s cum, hot and bitter at the back of his throat. He swallowed it, even stroked a few more squirts out of him just to get more of it. He let Ryo’s cock fall out of his mouth. He wanted more. Akira crawled up Ryo’s spent body and straddled him. He kissed him. He wanted Ryo to taste himself. As they kissed, Ryo’s hand gripped Akira’s cock, he stroked it slowly, and with his left hand he lazily pointed to the dresser beside them. Akira squinted. “What?”

“Open the drawer.”

Akira leaned over and pulled the drawer open. It was filled with miscellaneous knickknacks, a photo album, spare change, and—a tiny bottle rolled over—lube. Akira grinned and regarded Ryo below him with arched eyebrows, but Ryo said nothing as he flipped over onto his stomach. Akira swiped up the bottle and positioned himself behind Ryo’s plump ass. His underwear was just pulled down enough to accentuate its roundness. Akira coated his hand with lube and stroked himself with it. It was cold and slick and a little tacky, but it felt amazing, and he nearly lost himself in the simple pleasure. Ryo shifted and looked over his shoulder at Akira, he spread his legs—as much as his underwear would allow. It was enough to expose his tiny asshole. It looked delicious—Akira buried his face between Ryo’s cheeks and lapped away at it. He couldn’t get enough of his tongue in it, so he gripped Ryo’s cheeks and spread them apart making the blond bend back and cry out. Akira pleasured Ryo’s hole, made him shiver, and when that wasn’t sufficient Akira slapped his ass and made him cry out again.

It wasn’t enough, Akira pulled Ryo’s underwear down his thighs and hoisted him up to his knees, so that he was on all fours. Ryo stiffened when the first finger went in, but the moan he released was like honey and he relaxed—taking in the following digits with relish. Akira didn’t want to hurt him, so he did his best to stay patient, but once he felt Ryo open for him he re-lubed his cock and forced it inside him. Ryo gripped the sheets and gasped, but he took it, his moans growing heady with each powerful thrust. Akira bent and dug his nails into Ryo’s hips. He felt glorious. Tight and pliant and beautiful. Akira was so hungry for this. He felt the sweat and goosebumps on Ryo’s back, smelled the scent of their sex as it filled the room, saw stars with each and every stroke and drive.

And then Akira came. He practically flooded Ryo. When he pulled out his cum oozed out of Ryo’s ass. Akira wanted some of that too and he brought his lips to it, and practically sucked it out of him. The rest dribbled down Ryo’s ball sack, trickled down his thigh. Akira collapsed onto the bed and drew Ryo onto his chest. They were quiet for some time.

“I could do that again,” Ryo whispered. His bangs tickled Akira’s chin. “We can continue doing that.”

Akira grunted.

“Always,” Ryo said and looked up at Akira, but he was already asleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Any good? Hope you liked it! Kudos are appreciated (^^)
> 
> UPDATE: I'll be posting a PWP (Top) Ryo/Akira fic soon!


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